


Respite

by Author_of_evil



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Pre-A Game of Thrones, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Crush, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Author_of_evil/pseuds/Author_of_evil
Summary: Jaime wins at Harrenhal, and only one thing changes.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Elia Martell
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	Respite

The crown prince is in the dirt, and the crowd is cheering.

Jaime wheels his horse around, collects the garland, and lowers it into the lap of his vanquished foe’s wife. She gives him a smile as sweet as honey, rich brown eyes shining. He smiles back.

Only then does he take it all in. The massed spectators, the cheers and celebration, the money changing hands in the crowd.

The adoration.

This is what being a Kingsguard means.

**\---**

He rises, dresses and exercises, first his body, then his sword.

Then he stares at the far wall of the throne room til dusk.

He still smells, though.

He still hears.

**\---**

Ashara, Elia’s maid, bids him come to the princess’s chambers.

He stands before her awkwardly, unsure of the cause of any of this. She’s still weak after Prince Aegon’s birth, but her skin is back to her usual sleek olive, and she can stand without help, albeit shakily.

When the silence becomes too long for him, he speaks up, trying to keep his eyes off her body.

“Your Grace.”

She smiles at him, and he remembers the garland.

“I realised that I never thanked you for giving me that crown.”

“It was my pleasure, Your Grace. You were the Maiden herself that day.”

Her smile turns sad, and Jaime hopes he hasn’t said anything wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t have given her the crown? Had he offended Rhaegar?

“Let us sit, ser.”

She gestures to her bed, and so they sit on it, side-by-side.

She spends a few long moments looking at him. Jaime begins to sweat.

“We could have been married, you know.”

“Yes. We could have been.” Oberyn had told him the story, but he had known it before.

“I wonder if you would have taken more than a moon to forget our children. I wonder if you would still smile at me, still make love to me, or pass every night with a book or a harp in hand.”

Jaime realises he’s bitten his tongue.

“I wonder if I would still love you.”

She takes his head in her dainty hands, and turns it to face her.

“Forgive me, ser.”

She kisses him. He freezes, but his jaw is open from the shock and her tongue winds its way into his mouth.

She pulls away, and he gets up, making for the door.

“Don’t tell him.”

He turns around. Her dark eyes are pleading with him.

“Of course, Your Grace.”


End file.
